


A Slip in Time

by avulle



Series: A Slip in Time [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Also fluff, F/F, Light Angst, Smut, a little plot, adora just loves catra a lot okay, and pre-s1 catra is just completely blindsided by all of this unconditional love, featuring adora who's still a little bit of a freak, i apparently can't write non-freak adora, post-s5 adora and pre-s1 catra bone, that's all that happens here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avulle/pseuds/avulle
Summary: “What are you doing all the way down there?”Catra blinks sleepily at the bunk above her (the bunk that is supposed to be her bunk), and the squints sleepily at the source of the voice.It’s Adora, her eyes not even open, wiggling her hand pathetically in Catra’s direction.Catra’s body obeys the unspoken request before she can think better of it, and finds herself suddenly wrapped in Adora’s arms, Adora’s face inches from hers.Adora smiles, and presses their lips together while Catra’s brain short-circuits.Catra's brain spins and spins for some sort of rhyme or reason (what if Shadow Weaver sees them like this, what if Lonnie sees them like this what if—), until she realizes that—Oh.This is a dream.(post-s5 Adora x pre-s1 Catra lemon)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: A Slip in Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854448
Comments: 86
Kudos: 582
Collections: Overwatch_Fictions





	A Slip in Time

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, hello. It's been a while. Are you ready for mistakes? I'm ready for mistakes. (This fic has seen three major rewrites, and it has been haunting me for a literal month, but like, better late than never? Or something?)
> 
> Catra is sleeping in a shirt and sweatpants and not in her horde outfit (which she seemed to sleep in in canon? !??) because her horde outfit was inconvenient for the sex I had in mind.
> 
> Brought to you by pre-S1 Catra deserved better.

“What are you doing all the way down there?”

Catra blinks sleepily at the bunk above her (the bunk that is supposed to be her bunk), and then squints sleepily at the source of the voice.

It’s Adora, her eyes not even open, wiggling her hand pathetically in Catra’s direction.

Catra’s body obeys the unspoken request before she can think better of it, and finds herself suddenly wrapped in Adora’s arms, Adora’s face inches from hers.

Adora smiles, and presses their lips together while Catra’s brain short-circuits.

“Much better,” Adora says, pulling her even closer, burying her face in Catra’s neck, breathing down the neck of Catra’s sleeping shirt, across the fur of Catra’s chest. “‘love you.”

Catra blinks down at Adora’s blonde hair and tries to process what’s happening, but finds it hard to think beyond the feel of Adora’s hands on her lower back, Adora’s body pressed to hers—

Adora’s breath against her fur.

Her brain spins and spins for some sort of rhyme or reason (what if Shadow Weaver sees them like this, what if Lonnie sees them like this what if—), until she realizes that—

Oh.

This is a dream.

She’s dreaming.

Catra slowly lets out the breath she had been holding, and relaxes into Adora’s embrace.

Adora takes this an opportunity to pull her closer, nosing at the hem of her sleeping shirt, and  _ wow _ .

Catra has to take a moment.

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate dream-Adora’s efforts, but she really could have done with a better setting than their bed in the Fright Zone.

They could be anywhere!

Literally anywhere would be better than here.

And, just like that, the room they’re in melts into a cavernous pink room with towering ceiling, a fucking waterfull, and bed big enough to fit their entire squad.

Which.

Is arguably worse than the Fright Zone.

But—Catra’s not going to let a dream like this go to waste.

She raises her hand to Adora’s face, and slowly traces her fingers down Adora’s cheek. She raises her hand to Adora’s hair (which is just as soft as she had always imagined, which you might expect, considering this is a dream), and cards her claws through it.

Adora twitches her head against the light scratching of Catra’s claws, nuzzling into the crook of Catra’s neck, and Catra’s heart pounds harder.

This is a dream, and Adora is warm and soft against her.

This is a dream.

If it’s a dream, then—

She remembers the horrible videos  _ On-The-Intercourse-of-Mammalian-Species _ , and she remembers what she did in their bed, all tied up in the smell of Adora, when she slipped out of practice early.

She slips her claws under Adora’s jaw, and slides down until they’re nose to nose (lips to lips) again.

She takes a moment to marvel at how smooth Adora’s skin is. There was a part of her that had always expected fur there, because when she thought of doing this to Adora, she would touch her own cheek, and feel her own fur under her fingers.

This is nothing like that.

Catra presses their lips together again, and Adora moans lowly against her lips.

“ _ Catra _ ,” she whispers against Catra’s lips.

Catra very suddenly feels like her entire body is on fire.

“ _ Adora _ ,” she whispers back, kissing her again. “ _ Adora _ ,” she tries to say again, but her words are muffled by Adora’s lips against hers.

Adora stirs, waking, and her blue eyes open, and bore into Catra’s own.

A smile spreads across her lips, and she pushes Catra back into the bed before claiming Catra’s lips with enough force to take her breath away.

Catra’s lips part under Adora’s as her tongue slips inside of Catra’s mouth, and Catra’s mind goes blank.

She returns to herself to the feel of Adora’s blunt fingertips slipping under the material of her shirt.

“What are you wearing?” Adora mutters as she drags it up Catra’s stomach.

Adora pulls away, and Catra is horrified to find herself mewling pitifully at the loss, her arms locked around Adora’s neck, keeping her from moving away.

_ This is my dream _ , she thinks.

_ Don’t leave _ .

Adora laughs and presses their lips together again. “You’re so needy tonight,” she teases with a laugh against Catra’s lips.

Catra cannot bring her thoughts together enough to give Adora a coherent response.

( _ Tonight _ , she says, like they’ve done this before.)

(Like they do this all the time.)

(Which makes sense.)

(This is a dream.)

( _ Catra’s _ dream.)

(And isn’t that what she’s always wanted?)

Adora pulls away again, but she doesn’t try and sit up again, so Catra is able to restrain herself from once against moaning at the loss.

“Oh, what’s this?” Adora says, and Catra is horrified to find her tail curled tightly around Adora’s forearm, where it peeks out from beneath Catra’s shirt.

She slips her hand out from beneath Catra’s shirt, and pulls and twines her fingers through Catra’s tail. It feels so good Catra thinks she may just lose her mind.

“Are you wearing your old Horde pajamas?” Adora asks with a breathy laugh, once she’s done playing with Catra’s tail and Catra can think again. Her hands are now both slipping under her shirt, pulling it up, over her breasts, and then over her head when Adora coaxes Catra to release her death grip on Adora’s neck.

“Are we in the Fright Zone?” Adora stage-whispers, as she strips off her shirt without a second thought, and presses their bodies back together. “Are Lonnie and Kyle asleep in the bed next to us,” she continues, teasing laughter coloring her words. “Do we need to be quiet, so that we don’t wake anyone else in the bunk room up?”

Catra is having trouble processing Adora’s words through the feel of Adora’s breasts pressed against her fur.

Someone is moaning, and until Adora takes her face in both of her hands, Catra does not realize it is her.

“You’re so loud, tonight, Catra,” Adora says, sealing her lips over Catra’s, swallowing Catra’s moans. Adora’s tongue is back in her mouth, tangling with hers, and Catra feels something give beneath her claws.

It feels like—

Adora flexes her back, and Catra realizes she’s dug her claws into Adora’s skin. 

She retracts them, tries to pull back, say… something, but Adora just kisses her harder, combs her hands back into Catra’s hair, curling her fingers around Catra’s ears, and squeezing one particular spot near the base.

It feels like it is directly connected to something deep inside of her, and a moan literally rips itself out of her.

“I love it,” Adora whispers against her lips, finally releasing a thoroughly dazed Catra to stare blankly at the bunk above her.

Adora sits up and, for the first time, Catra gets a proper look at what had been pressed up against her. Adora raises her hands to her hair, pulling her hair from the utter mess Catra has made of her ponytail, and she is the most singularly beautiful thing Catra has ever seen.

She sees Adora naked literally once a day, but… Not like this. Adora is flushed, from her ears down across her shoulders, and when her gaze meets Catra’s again, her gaze is just.

Like nothing Catra has ever seen.

Catra forgets how to breathe.

Adora’s gaze drops from her eyes traces over her body, dancing down to her lips, then down her neck, and then down to her breasts.

“You’re so pretty, Catra,” she says, under her breath, like she just can’t help it. “I like you so much, you look so good, I want you so bad,” and—

Catra forgets how to breathe.

(Like if she breathes, she’ll wake up.)

(This will all stop.)

Adora drops her hands from her hair, letting her golden locks flow down over her shoulders, and then smooths her hands against Catra’s abs.

“Catra,” she says, and her hands are soft and kind like she’s touching something delicate, and Catra gasps at just the idea of an Adora who could look at her like this, talk about her like this, touch her like this.

She smooths her thumbs against Catra’s fur, and Catra trembles. She slowly smooths her hands up Catra’s abdomen, and stops, just below her breasts.

“You’re so soft and so warm and you feel so good—”

Catra almost screams.

She feels like if Adora doesn’t immediately touch her, she’s going to explode.

She feels like if Adora does touch her, she’s going to burn from the inside out.

She traces the under side of Catra’s breasts, and she says “I love you so much, Catra.”

It is just.

It is just so much.

She can do nothing but stare, wide eyed.

At this figment of her imagination.

Which is just so much more.

Then Catra ever dared to imagine.

(She almost wants to wake up.)

(She almost wants to forget.)

(So she won’t be so eternally reminded of what she doesn’t have.)

(But…)

(Not quite.)

Catra reaches up for Adora, pulls her down against her.

Catra wants this to last.

She wants this to never end.

She doesn’t want to wake up.

She doesn’t want to go back to a world in which they’re just friends, and all she can do is squirm in their shared sheets while she sticks her own hand in her pants.

“Oh, okay,” she says, laughing, happy, like everything they’re doing is a fucking dream come true. “Oh, what did I do to deserve this?” Their lips meet, quick and chaste. “What did I do to deserve you?”

And then she’s kissing Catra, long and deep and long, pressing the whole length of their bodies together, hands in Catra’s hair as Catra can do little but mewl and scrabble at Adora’s back.

When their lips part for breath she says things like—

“You taste so good” and “I love you so much” and “You’re so soft” and “I love the feel of your fur on my skin” and—

On and on and on.

Like there’s nothing Adora would rather do than kiss Catra and tell her how great she is until the end of time.

When they had watched  _ On-The-Intercourse-of-Mammalian-Species _ , it had covered the many dangers of kissing, but Catra had never.

Catra had never imagined it could feel like this.

There is so much of Adora everywhere all around her, she can smell nothing but her, feel nothing but her.

As it continues, she grows bolder with this figment of her imagination that loves her and tells her nothing but how great she is, spreading her hands up and down Adora’s back, and Adora rewards her with hums of happiness.

“Your hair is so soft,” she says.

She reaches the waistband and hesitates—

“Your tongue feels so good.”

She slips her hands under Adora’s waistband, and Adora makes a little gasp against her lips.

She pulls back, and Catra chases her, not caring how stupid, how needy she looks, and Adora sinks back against her again, “Since when do you want to kiss me this much,” Catra spreads her fingers across Adora’s butt, and oh, yes.

It’s so much better than she imagined—

Every day running behind it in drills, in the showers, she had always—

Oh, yes.

It feels like an eternity later when Adora pulls away and Catra does not desperately chase her as she goes, her mind in a blissful fog.

Adora, lips bright red and kiss-bruised, smiles down at her, blue eyes sparkling.

“Oh, Catra. You’re so great.”

She drops her lips to the corner of Catra’s lips, then her cheek, the corner of her jaw.

“I love you,” she mentions in passing, like it’s nothing, as she passes by Catra’s ear, kisses down Catra’s neck, down where her fur gets thick, and Adora kisses the fur like she loves it, like she lives for it, little hums of happiness as she buries her lips in the fur, and—

Catra closes her eyes, and tries to hold back the purr in her chest.

“Catra Catra Catra,” Adora is murmuring, as she works her way down to Catra’s chest. “Your fur is so warm, so soft, you’re so warm and so—”

She continues muttering compliments, some unintelligible through Catra’s fur, some not, but all of them vibrating into Catra’s chest all the same, bumping against the purr Catra is holding there until finally comes out.

It makes Catra’s heart stop—

Adora doesn’t know, she can’t know what an animal Catra is she—

“Your purr feels so good, honey, I love it when you purr—”

Catra jams her eyes into her eyes sockets, and clenches her eyes closed against the stupid fucking tears that form in her eyes.

This is a stupid dream, obviously dream-Adora would say that, she—

Adora’s lips reach her breast, and Catra’s mind momentarily goes blank, as she gasps into the cold bunk room air.

Adora’s fingers dance up one breast while she kisses up the other, and Catra can do nothing but remember her own hands on her useless breasts, in which everything was too much, and—

Adora’s warm mouth envelops Catra’s breast, her tongue laving around her nipple, and it is.

Perfect.

(It’s a just a dream it’s just a dream it’s just a—)

Stars burst behind Catra’s eyes, and Catra gasps out into the warm air above her. She can feel Adora’s lips turn up against her, so pleased with herself, and–

“Oh, Catra,” she whispers. “I love the sound of you.”

Catra clenches her eyes tight as Adora’s fingers and tongue touch her like they’re physically dragging the moans out of Catra, leaving her no choice to make just the most wanton noises into the air above her.

She finds herself digging her hands into Adora’s hair and arching into Adora’s mouth and hands despite herself, and Adora is laughing against her, smiling against her.

“Oh,  _ Catra _ .”

The tenderness in her voice would make Catra want to fucking hurt her because she knows it can never last but in this dream she can almost fucking believe that Adora could actually feel like this about her, and  _ Gods _ .

Just as it’s starting to get too much, Adora releases her, her hand gently caressing the swell of her breast, fingers steering carefully clear of the nipple Catra is sure is just embarrassingly red.

Catra looks down, and Adora’s eyes sparkle up at her.

“You taste so good, Catra,” she says, theatrically licking her lips with a smile, and Catra can’t help cough out a laugh. 

“Is this what we could have had, if we realized it earlier?” Adora asks, stopping above Catra’s other breast, and Catra can feel her every breath. “We wasted so much time.”

There is.

There is sadness in her eyes.

Wistfulness.

“Sorry, not sex talk,” Adora says, waggling her eyebrows and kissing playfully around Catra’s nipple before closing her lips around it as well, and Catra’s lost in the fucking void again.

She’s left gasping and blinking at the ceiling as Adora’s tongue laves around her, makes her squirm and pant and purr and—

“Oh, Catra, yes—”

And Adora’s hand spread out across her, one tracing the fur of her arm, tangling their fingers together, the other slipping down her body, down to her waistband, and then back.

Adora releases her as Catra’s squirming begins to get uncomfortable, and Catra is shaking, her face inexplicably wet.

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” she says, and—

What?

Catra blinks down at Adora.

“Oops,” Adora says, voicing teasing as she kisses her way down Catra’s body, humming against her fur, her tongue darting into Catra’s belly button as she passes it. “You’re married to a bit of a freak, huh?”

She stops just above Catra’s waistband, looks up and holds Catra’s gaze as she places a long kiss on the dense, tangled fur of Catra’s abdomen just above it.

“So we’re still in the Fright Zone, right? Does that mean we’re still ‘just friends’?”

Her tongue slips just under Catra’s waistband, and sweeping through the fur she finds there, and Catra scrambles a hand to help Adora push them down, but Adora catches her hand, and laces their fingers together instead.

“Just a little longer,” Adora says, her fingers warm around Catra’s own, her eyes pleading. “Please?”

Catra opens and closes her mouth to little effect, but when Adora appears to be waiting on her answer, she nods, and Adora smiles.

She drags her nose through Catra’s abdomen fur, and takes a deep breath of the smell she finds there. She laughs under her breath at Catra’s pajama pants, slipping a finger under Catra’s waistband, straightening it.

“Tell me about your setting here,” she says, laughter coloring her voice. “How did this happen? Did we give into our mutual lust? Sex pollen? Both wake from a sex dream, unable to contain ourselves?”

No.

No.

That’s not.

That’s not Catra’s dream.

“We—”

Catra finds her voice hoarse, and coughs.

“We realized we loved each other,” Catra’s voice cracks, and she maybe cries a little, but who cares, it’s a dream, “and wanted to show each other how much we loved each other.” She finishes in a whisper.

It’s her fucking dream.

“Oh, Catra,” Adora says, kissing Catra’s abdomen again. “That’s… I like that a lot, too.” She kisses Catra’s abdomen a third time. “I love you, Catra.”

“I love you, too,” Catra says, her voice strangled.

Adora holds her gaze for a long moment, and then presses a kiss to Catra’s waistband. She presses a kiss to a little below Catra’s waistband, and then lower still.

She kisses the fabric over Catra’s left thigh, her right thigh.

She drops her face to the apex of Catra’s thighs, and presses a long, open-mouthed kiss to the fabric she finds there.

Catra can feel Adora’s lips on her through the two laws of fabric, and it feels—

Gods.

“You smell so good, Catra.”

She can feel Adora’s tongue trace the full length of her, pressing the fabric of her underwear up against her.

Adora pulls away, and the bit of Catra’s underwear Adora pushed against her doesn’t leave, like a phantom of her tongue, still pressed against her. Adora leans her face against Catra’s pant leg, and smiles a little impishly.

“Kissing you over your clothes feels so naughty,” she says. “Feels like I’m getting away with something.”

Catra has been feeling like she got away with something for the last…

However long this has been happening.

“Maybe it’d be more setting appropriate if we did it over clothes, but Catra—” she slips her hands under Catra’s waistband, and Catra hurries to lift her hips to let Adora slip her pants off of her. “I want to feel your skin, your fur, under my lips.”

Catra, at that moment, has never wanted to be naked more in her entire life.

Adora pulls back, casts them carelessly to the ground beside the enormous bed they’re laying on, before stripping her own pants and underwear off, leaving Catra to stare, open mouthed at the glory of Adora’s nakedness before her.

She only has a moment, though, because when Adora she turns back to Catra, she freezes.

“Oh, Catra,” she says, her voice low and so quiet even Catra’s magicat hearing can barely hear it.

Her eyes are fastened onto what Catra knows must be the total mess her underwear has become. She squirms uncomfortably, already able to imagine the huge wet spot, how it’s gotten bunched up and isn’t even covering her all the way anymore—

Adora moves forward, like she’s in a trance, and kneels on the bed at Catra’s feet, and lowers her face to Catra’s sex.

She can feel Adora’s breath against her, and before she can appropriately process what’s going on Adora opens her mouth, and presses another open mouthed kiss to what she finds there and.

_ Fuck _ if that isn’t the best anything has felt in Catra’s entire life.

She thinks that if Adora actually touches her, she may explode.

“Sorry,” Adora says, carefully unsticking Catra’s underwear form her (the gentle sweeps of her fingers leave her squirming and digging her fingers into the bed spread beside her), and then pulling it from her legs. “You were just—”

Adora groans, like she doesn’t even have the words to describe it.

She leans down, hand spreading back across Catra’s abdomen, fingers tangling in the thick fur she finds there, and she noses one of Catra thighs, then the other, murmuring, “Oh, Catra, oh Catra you are so—”

She finishes with a wordless groan as she presses a kiss to the base of one thigh, then higher, and higher until she presses a kiss to the crease between it and she rest of her body, her tongue slipping along and Catra sees stars.

Adora isn’t even touching her and—

“You smell so good you’re warm you’re soft I love you so much I want you so—“

Catra whines in the back of her throat, pushes her pelvis up, and into Adora mouth and hands.

“Yes, Catra, just like that, you look so good—“

She kisses Catra’s thigh once more and then suddenly Adora’s lips are directly on her and it is just.

Indescribable.

Her vision swims, her bones melt, and she moans helplessly against her own hand.

“No, let me hear you, Catra, please.”

Each word she can  _ feel _ as well as hear, and Catra whimpers as removes her hand from her mouth to bury it in her hair instead.

Adora’s tongue dips inside of her, and Catra shudders, hair tight in her hands.

“You taste so good Catra, I love the feel of you around my tongue—“

Adora does it again, then pulls out, tracing the skin around Catra’s slit with long licks before returning to her slit, and just.

Catra.

Cannot.

With each movement, Catra twitches and moans and cries and it is the best thing she has ever felt but it is.

Not enough.

Not when Adora finally presses all her tongue into her, not when her tongue circles around Catra’s clit.

Not when she presses her lips against Catra’s clit, and laves it with her tongue.

Catra cries.

It feels good.

She wants to come.

She’s never wanted to come more in her entire fucking life.

It feels better than her hamfisted fingers ever made her feel—

But God, even in her fucking dreams.

Why does her body have to be such a fucking problem.

If everything’s not just right, then—

“Sorry, that was too much,” Adora says as Catra’s body shudders as she feels Adora’s finger enter her, curl and—

Catra forgets how to breathe.

“You feel so good Catra,” Adora is saying, sliding up her body dropping kisses as she travels up Catra’s body. She reaches Catra’s face, wipes the mess Catra has made of her face with the back of a hand and kisses Catra. Catra can taste the barest hints of herself against Adora’s lips as now two of Adora’s fingers enter her, Adora’s thumb slides around her clit, and she gasps.

Adora’s lips seal around hers as Adora begins to work herself into a rhythm that has Catra start to feel herself slip.

“Adora,” she whines.

Not even dream-Adora is going to be willing to—

Adora presses their lips together, rubs fingers through her hair, whispers between their kisses, “You look so good you feel so good you’re so warm you’re so soft I love you I am so happy I’m with you.”

All while her fingers never miss a beat, never tire even as she has to go again and again and again and her arm must be tired but in and out as she kisses Catra and petting her ears and whispering about how pretty she is and how much Adora loves her and loves doing this with her and—

Again and again and again because even in Catra’s dreams Catra can’t fucking cum if it’s not all perfect and even when it is it takes a fucking year—

Again and again and again and Adora doesn’t stop her fingers, doesn’t stop kissing her or caressing her her ears or telling her good she sounds and how soft her hair or how cute her ears are, and Catra is holding on to Adora’s arm like a fucking lifeline, because she’s so fucking close and then she’s shaking and quivering with every thrust and she can’t kiss Adora back anymore and her eyes are open and but she can’t see a damn thing, and finally—

Finally, Catra comes.

With nothing more than a weak moan as her orgasm washes over her like a fucking tsunami.

And Adora just keeps on fingering her through it, pushing her higher and higher as she keeps whispering in her ear, telling her how beautiful she is when she comes, and gods if it doesn’t fucking destroy Catra, leave her fucking boneless and fucking weeping.

When Catra can think again, Adora is still right there, arms around her, hands running over the fur over Catra’s arm telling Catra how great and how beautiful she was as she kisses her some more, pecks on her nose and her cheeks and her eyebrows.

Catra blinks.

She wasn’t expecting to still be asleep.

Adora smiles, nuzzling her face.

“You’re so cute when you can barely think.”

Catra smiles despite herself, as Adora traces her fingers up and down Catra’s side, fingers gentle and loving and a purr works its way out of Catra’s chest.

If this dream isn’t going to end here.

If this dream isn’t going to end now.

She doesn’t know when it’s going to end.

But she sure as shit isn’t going to waste it.

Catra reaches out for Adora, works through the stupid tiredness in her arms (this is a dream and who knows how long this’ll last), and pulls Adora close.

“Hi,” Adora says, pulling her closer.

“Hey Adora,” Catra says.

That sparks something in Adora’s eyes, and her blue eyes sparkle.

But Catra can barely notice, because now that she’s pulled Adora closer, she can  _ smell it _ .

It smells like Adora’s sheets, when she sleeps without Catra.

Slowly, Adora’s smile grows, and Catra hesitantly drops her gaze down to where Adora is spreading her legs, down to the apex of her thighs, which are literally glistening.

_ It smells like Adora’s sheets, when she sleeps without Catra _ .

Catra’s mind goes blank, but Dream-Adora’s voice brings her back to the present.

“Can you smell me?” she asks, her voice low. “Tell me you can smell me, Catra.”

Catra nods, and Adora’s entire body shivers.

“You felt so good, Catra,” Adora says, taking Catra’s hand and guiding it down her body.

Catra watches her hand go, and takes the moment to take in the magnificence of Adora’s entire body.

Gleaming with sweat, breasts heaving, ridiculously toned abs, thighs, and that tuft of blonde hair above her sex she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she was fourteen years old.

And now her fingers are fingers are touching it, combing through it, as Adora shakes under her.

“Please, Catra, don’t tease me,” Adora says, snapping Catra’s gaze back up to her stupidly beautiful face. “I  _ need _ you inside me.”

Catra hesitates, her fingers unthinkingly continuing their journey down, and she hits—

The sound Adora makes is obscene.

She falls back against the bed, arches against it, the muscles in her abdomen standing strong against her skin, her breasts literally right in front of Catra’s face, and  _ fucking gods _ .

Catra drops her head to Adora’s breast before her, doing her best to treat it like Adora treated her own, gentle and—

“ _ Harder _ ,” Adora says. “ _ Use your teeth _ .”

Catra looks up, and the look Adora is giving her is fucking ravenous.

Catra uses her teeth, gentle at first, and then at Adora’s encouraging moans, harder.

She uses her canines on the soft skin of Adora’s breasts, her front teeth on her nipple, and Adora rewards her with moans and her fingers tight in Catra’s mane.

“Yes, just like that, it feels so good you feel so good—”

It must not be enough, though, because Adora takes Catra’s hand from where it lays paralyzed just above Adora’s clit, and Adora physically takes her first two fingers in her own, and then pushes both sets of them inside of her. 

Fingering herself should have theoretically prepared Catra for what this would feel like but it doesn’t in the slightest.

She stays there, frozen, and Adora curls her fingers around Catra’s, and Catra’s by extension, and Adora arches her back, and cries out.

Adora closes her hand until she is grinding the palm of Catra’s hand against her clit, and when Catra realizes she should be moving her fingers, Adora’s fingers don’t let her, and holds her in place while Adora starts to fuck herself on their shared fingers, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing she’s ever seen.

“Yes yes yes,” Adora chants. “You feel so good, Catra, yess,” she says, despite the fact she is doing literally all of the work.

The hand on the back of Catra’s head urges her to continue her ministrations, and she does her best as Adora fucks herself on their shared fingers. She licks across Adora’s nipple without remembering she has a stupid horrible cat tongue but Adora’s reaction is immediate and extraordinarily positive, her hands tightening in Catra’s hair, pushing her down against her own breast and—

“Yes, I love your tongue it feels so good, more, please—”

Soon Adora is shaking and quivering and she can barely speak through her own moans and she’s saying—

“Kiss me Catra please I need—”

Catra kisses her, pressing as much of their bodies together as she can without disrupting her hands, tangling their tongues as best she can as Adora shakes and shakes and then comes.

She does her best to work her through it, drive her up, over it, just like she’d done to Catra, and afterwards she’ll find her hand wet up to the wrist, but she has no memory of when that happened because Adora, while she comes, is just incredible.

It’s like every fucking muscle in her has gone taught, and Catra can see them all.

As Adora falls back to the bed, and Catra gets her hand back, she smiles at Catra says, “That was great.” She takes a breath. “Also you were great.” Another breath. “Also, I love you.”

She smiles like the dork she is at Catra, her eyes stupidly soft, looking at Catra like she’s the best fucking thing on the Etheria, and Catra smiles.

“I love you, too,” she says, and the smile she receives in return is fucking brilliant.

She leans down, and kisses Adora.

Adora’s hand comes up, and cups the back of her head as they kiss, scratching at the fur of the back of her neck in a way she never knew could feel so good.

She kisses her and she kisses her even as she sees out of the corner of her eyes that the pink room they’re in has started to lose focus, and she just wants one more moment with this fictional Adora who loves her and accepts her love without question or hesitation.

She pulls back to breathe, and Adora takes the moment to glance at the world beside her, and her smile slips.

Catra tries to kiss her again, but Adora stops her, hands on her shoulders.

“What’s happening?”

Catra sighs, and sits back as Adora sits up.

“The dream,” Catra says, stating the obvious. “It’s ending.”

Adora blinks, looks around them, looks back at Catra.

“You’re not—”

She stops. Slowly, she slips her hand around Catra’s neck, and runs her fingers over the fur she finds there.

Searching.

For what, Catra has no clue.

“You’re not my Catra,” she finally says.

It’s just a dream, but it still hurts.

“Oh, no, Catra, no.”

Dream-Adora crushes Catra to her chest, even as Catra can feel her looking around them over her shoulder.

“I love you,” she says, and it sounds like she means it.

“Catra, I’m not sure what’s going on. I’m not sure if you’re just a dream, or if you’re real—”

If  _ Catra _ is real?

“But I want you to answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” Catra whispers against Adora’s neck, before she can stop herself.

“Are we still in the Fright Zone?”

Catra watches the room disintegrate around them.

She nods.

The way Adora says it.

It’s like she’s not.

It’s like  _ they’re _ not.

She looks at the room around them, even as it disintegrates.

Pastels.

High ceilings.

Waterfalls.

This isn’t the Fright Zone.

This is…

This is the world outside.

“What’s this room?” Catra asks instead of answering.

Adora pulls away, and meets Catra’s eyes.

“It’s  _ our _ room,” she says.

“Yes,” Catra says. “We’re still in the Fright Zone.”

“Okay,” Adora says, leaning their heads together. “I’m twenty-three years old.”

Catra blinks.

Catra is.

Eighteen.

(Ish.)

“If this is real I know you probably won’t believe me, but please Catra, look at me, trust me.”

Her blue eyes are wide and so earnest.

“When the time comes, please. When I leave, Catra please. Follow me. I’m not leaving you, I don’t want to leave you, please,  _ follow me _ .”

Catra, her mind unable to keep up, can only stare stupidly and Adora’s face crumples a little bit.

She leans and kisses Catra, sweet and short like she couldn’t help herself.

“You always told me your biggest regret was not following me—was staying behind, Catra, please don’t make the same mistake. Follow She-Ra.”

The world around them is being whipped away into a black void, nothing left but the white bed they are both on, but Adora hasn’t let go of Catra’s face.

“But even if you don’t, even if you think I’m just a dream, remember no matter what. You make it through this,” she says. “I love you.” She finally lets go of Catra’s face, and the beds mostly gone now, she’s starting to get warped, distorted. She holds the unclear image of her hand between them. “Look, Catra,” she says, holding her left ring finger between them, pinching it with the fingers of her right hand.

“This is our wedding ring, Catra,” she says, her eyes filled with so much love Catra wishes that she could ever get even a—

She pulls the wedding ring off, places it in Catra’s hand, closing Catra’s hand around it. Catra can feel it against her warped, not warped, not getting torn apart as this dream vanishes into nothingness.

“When we married you said it was like a dream come true,  _ Catra _ .”

Warped Dream-Adora’s lips press against Catra’s again, and her form is so incoherent now it’s like kissing someone made of soda.

“You just need to tell me, Catra. I always—”

And then Catra wakes up.

Stares at the bunk above her.

The bunk that is her bunk.

_ I always _ , Dream-Adora had said.

Catra has never felt so robbed in her entire fucking life.

Then, slowly, she turns her gaze up the bed, to where Adora should be lying asleep, only to find Adora awake as well, her eyes on Catra, a blush high in her cheeks.

She smiles awkwardly, and then kind of turns away, like she’s going to go back to sleep.

Slowly, Catra turns her gaze down to her hands, and opens them.

Within them lies a still-warm gold band that shouldn’t exist.

She takes it in her hands, slips it onto her ring finger, finds it doesn’t fit, tries her middle finger instead.

She closes her fist, feels it dig into her fur.

She crawls up the bed, brings herself face-to-face with Adora.

Adora jerks back in surprise, and colors.

She laughs awkwardly.

“What are you still doing—”

“I love you,” Catra says.

Adora freezes, mouth half-open.

Catra clenches her hand hard enough she can feel the ring on her finger dig into her skin.

Adora stares at her, still dumbfounded.

“Tell me you love me too.”

Adora blinks, and Catra clenches her fingers tight.

Please be real please be real please be real.

“I—” Adora swallows awkwardly. “I love you, too.”

There is a moment of silence before Catra hears someone laughing.

It takes her another moment to realize it is her.

The awkwardness on Adora’s face breaks, and her face splits in a grin as she begins to laugh with her.

They lean into each other and—

“That’s great go to sleep.”

They freeze.

It’s Lonnie’s voice, and Catra slowly checks over her shoulder at Lonnie’s bunk beside them.

She feels heat rush to her face.

“I’m super happy for you, but we gotta wake up in like, three hours.”

As Catra’s brain spins in panic mode, Adora works the blanket out from beneath them, and then around them both.

Adora’s face before her breaks her shell-shocked haze.

“You love me,” she says in a whisper.

Catra doesn’t really want to admit it again so soon, so she sidesteps it.

“Did you have a dream… of me?”

Adora colors, and then nods.

“And what about—”

“Shut up!”

At Lonnie’s bark, they both jump.

Slowly, they lay their heads down on the same pillow, like they haven’t since they were tiny.

Catra can still see Adora smiling at her in the dark.

Catra reaches out, and wraps her arms around Adora.

Adora slowly inches her way across the half foot between them, her eyes sparkling with just a hint of playfulness and then Adora presses her lips to Catra’s.

She’s.

Not a very good kisser.

Not in comparison to what her dream self could do with just her lips against Catra’s, but then again.

Catra imagines she’s a pale imitation of her dream self, too.

And.

She’s kissing Adora.

She’s kissing Adora, in real life.

Catra feels something that feels a lot like happiness bloom in her chest, and clutches Adora tightly to her chest.

Adora’s arms circle Catra, and pull Catra tight against her as Adora awkwardly opens her lips against Catra’s, awkwardly sticks her tongue in Catra’s mouth and it is just.

The greatest.

Catra purrs, and Adora hums and like.

No offense to Future-Adora.

But Present-Adora is clearly where it’s at.

They make sloppy kisses that get sloppier as their eyes droop and the last thing Catra remembers before sleep takes her is Adora’s sloppy, awkward lips against her own.

And when Catra wakes up the next morning, Adora is still in her arms.

The ring that shouldn’t be is still around her finger.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was gonna be a time travel fix-it fic where Adora comes back in time and stays there and fixes everything, but like, Noelle already fixed She-Ra so damn hard I couldn't imagine being able to fix it much better, so I made it porn instead.
> 
> One day, I swear to God I'll write an Adora who isn't a freak, but today is not that day.


End file.
